


king and lionheart

by WeeBeastie



Series: hope springs eternal [4]
Category: Black Sails
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Domestic Fluff, Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Kid Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-18
Updated: 2017-11-18
Packaged: 2019-02-04 00:07:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12759069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/pseuds/WeeBeastie
Summary: howling ghosts, they reappearin mountains that are stacked with fearbut you're a king and i'm a lionheart[silverflint + a baby, the next chapter]





	king and lionheart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [scrapbullet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scrapbullet/gifts).



> A ficlet written as a response to a prompt from scrap, which I was so so grateful to receive and delighted to write. I love having any excuse to write in this verse! Thank you, scrap. <3
> 
> Title and lyrics in the summary borrowed lovingly from "King and Lionheart" by Of Monsters And Men because it reminds me so much of these two Gross pirates.

It happens nearly every weekend, absolutely every time they go to the shops. Well. To one shop in particular.

Silver will be wearing Hope in the sling Flint fashioned for them, or Flint will be carrying her in his arms. Now that she's a bit more steady on her feet, on rare occasions she even walks determinedly under her own power, provided the weather isn't too nasty and they aren't in a hurry. She'll toddle along in front of them, under Silver's watchful eye with several of Flint's fingers clutched in her chubby fist. Silver's seen other parents who have sewn reins into their children’s clothing - long strips of fabric that they hold at the ends, to keep a child from wandering too far afield or getting lost in a snowdrift. This practice strikes him as hilarious but utterly ridiculous, so he hasn't made any similar modifications to Hope’s tiny gowns or her little coat. He'd rather just carry her, anyway.

Every time they pop into this specific shop - the one that sells tea and spices - the same thing happens. The woman behind the shop’s counter has inevitably and inexplicably brought with her an overgrown tame rabbit, which she's set upon the countertop where it probably keeps her company while serving no other purpose whatsoever. It's a black, velvety-looking thing with long, floppy ears and a twitchy nose. It's nearly as big as Hope herself.

Hope never fails to notice it, and every time she does, whether in Flint's arms or secured to Silver's chest or back, or standing proudly on her own two little feet, she shrieks excitedly: “Gog! Goggy!”

“No, sweetheart, it's not a dog, it's a rabbit,” Silver or Flint says, every time.

“Gog!” Hope insists, opening and closing her hands, just _desperate_ to pet the ‘goggy.’ When she's gently denied this privilege - nay, right - by whatever well-meaning father currently has hold of her, she buries her face in his shoulder or hair or thigh and whimpers piteously at length, making a dramatic ‘buh huh huh’ noise as though sobbing with deep, pained sorrow. It's adorable and only the slightest bit sad, to Silver. He wishes he could let her touch the beast, truly, but the proprietress of the shop is not overly friendly and the rabbit’s teeth, though blunt, are large. Silver would prefer for his daughter to keep all ten of the fingers with which she was born, so needs must be that she cannot touch the rabbit.

One snowy Sunday, after this little routine has played itself out yet again, Silver makes his way slowly back home with his family and thinks. Flint is carrying their purchases and Silver has Hope snuggled to his chest in her sling, bundled up in her best knitwear (courtesy of both her fathers; her bonnet is a bit lumpy and her mittens look-- odd, but they did their best).

“You know--” Silver begins, and he barely gets the two words out before Flint is putting a stop to his cunning plan.

“No,” Flint grumps flatly, his eyebrows drawn together.

“But she loves it so much! She just wants a pet, James. Every little girl should have one, and if she wants a ‘goggy’ so bad, what else can we do?” Silver implores.

“We are not going to steal someone's dog.”

“Rabbit,” Silver corrects, grinning. “She may have you conned, but I must remind you it is actually just a large rabbit. Not a dog.”

“Rabbit, dog, what-bloody-ever it is,” Flint says, waving his free hand dismissively. “We are not going to steal it. We are not thieves,” he says. “Anymore,” he amends when Silver gives him a dubious look.

“I would steal the whole world for her, if I could,” Silver says quietly, pressing a kiss to the top of the bonnet Flint knitted. It's a deep blue wool that suits Hope’s coloring to a tee, despite the...homespun...appearance of the bonnet itself.

“I know,” Flint murmurs, gently linking his arm through Silver's, ostensibly to help him navigate in the snow but really, they both know, to be closer to him. “I would, too.”

When they return home, Silver sets Hope free from her sling and helps her out of her heavy knit overclothes, setting her gently on the wood floor. She flees, barefoot and shrieking delightedly, to the nursery where her toys await her. As Silver straightens, he feels Flint's arms slide around his waist and his nose - cold from the winter air outside - press into his neck.

“What's bothering you?” Flint asks softly, and Silver can't help but smile just a little. Flint knows him so well.

“We aren't thieves anymore, as you said,” Silver says, leaning back against Flint. “But we stole her, we stole Hope. We aren't...neither of us gave birth to her, neither of us sired her. What if her mother comes back, or her father finds out where she is and decides that he wants her? What then?”

“We didn't steal her,” Flint argues, and Silver can hear the furrow of his brow in his voice. “She was given to us, as an unexpected but welcome gift. You said it yourself - her mother took everything else with her and she left Hope on purpose. As for Hope’s father, you're her father and so am I. If any other man should darken our doorstep and attempt to lay some claim to her, I'll kill him,” he purrs, nuzzling behind Silver's ear.

“Thank you,” Silver breathes with a sigh of relief. Flint always knows - has always known - precisely what he needs to hear.

Later that evening, after Hope has been put to bed and the fire in the parlor fireplace has burned down to glowing embers, Flint retreats to their bed while Silver makes his final rounds through the closed, darkened pub. He hears a curious noise at the front door - a soft scratching and then a low, mournful yowl. He ignores it, turning instead to go to bed and enjoy a well-deserved rest alongside Flint.

When he wakes in the early morning, he dresses and makes his way outside to clear the snow from the front path outside the pub. Sitting there rather irritably is a large black cat, a magnificent snaggletooth bastard with pale green eyes and a ruff of almost silvery gray fur. Silver is about to shoo it away when he hears a soft pitter-pat behind him and then Hope is by his side in the doorway.

“Gog!” she gasps, wonder in her lispy little voice. “Goggy,” she croons, holding one dimpled hand out to the beast and waddling toward it - barefoot, clad in her long nightgown - with a certain determined air.

“Hope,” Silver says sharply, worried about the stray biting or scratching his sweet daughter. “No. Come back to Da, come on now.”

She ignores him blithely, as any daughter of his might be wont to do, and at once is within arm’s length of the huge cat, sinking her fingers into its fur. Silver is frozen to the spot with fear, desperately hoping the cat is friendly.

To his shock and utter delight, the cat purrs like mad and gently butts its head against Hope’s, then rolls onto its back, presenting its furry belly for more of her eager affection. She obliges, cackling with glee and patting the cat while chanting ‘gog, goggy, good!’ under her breath.

“What on earth is happening here?” Flint asks suddenly from just behind Silver.

“She's stolen herself a dog,” Silver says, grinning crookedly.

“That's a cat,” Flint informs him flatly.

“What-bloody-ever it is. It lives here now,” Silver says, then ventures out into the snow to collect his daughter and their new pet, who saunters into the pub like he already belongs there. 

Once the door is safely shut and they're alone, Silver kisses Flint soundly, pulling him in close.

“Kiss me all you like, I'm not letting you keep that monstrous thing,” Flint rumbles when he pulls back.

“You say that as though you've really got a choice in the matter,” Silver whispers teasingly, and kisses him again.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [king and lionheart [PODFIC]](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13414542) by [ponytailflint (inkgeek)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkgeek/pseuds/ponytailflint), [WeeBeastie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeeBeastie/pseuds/WeeBeastie)




End file.
